


Pastels

by Ulqueleh (Ulquii)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura & Shiro (Voltron) Friendship, Established Relationship, F/M, Friendship, GOSH, Hair Dyeing, M/M, Makeover, Married Allura/Lance (Voltron), Not Canon Compliant, S8 who?, Shiro has his hair dyed by Allura, i guess??, not really - Freeform, why is that not a tag already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23652976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulquii/pseuds/Ulqueleh
Summary: In Allura it was breathtaking. Because Allura herself could cause that effect on you at any moment of time, really. In Lance, though, it was subtle and only shone bright under the sunlight. He had preferred blue hues, a bit of purple here and there, and, although it wasn't that visible because of his darker hair, it looked pretty good.And Shiro started to wonder if he should try it himself.
Relationships: Allura/Lance (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Pastels

**Author's Note:**

> I read this [tweet](https://twitter.com/goldentruth813/status/1249158878358638593) and I couldn't help myself. I have lots of things to do but I really have no control so my thesis can totally wait.

Shiro takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and opens his eyes to his reflection on the mirror in front of him. He stares into his gray eyes, determination going right back to him, and exhales long and slow, nodding. 

"I'm ready." 

Allura smiles at him through the mirror, standing behind him, and she flutters a towel over his shoulders, snuggling it close loosely around his neck. 

"Alright," she murmurs, and passes her fingers through his white hair, a bit longer and messy than he would like, "Remember that if you don't like it, I can fix it, okay?" 

He finds Allura's eyes in the reflection, looking fond and soft at him, and he feels a sigh fell out from his lips, his tense shoulders relaxing beneath the cloth. 

"Okay." 

He’s grateful that she doesn't make fun of his insecurity, even when it's rooted from something as dumb as a color on his hair. 

He's used to the white now. It's been a couple of years since he came back from the death to a body that wasn't entirely his, the white hair making him feel older and wearier than how his body actually feels. 

It's strange, because, although he doesn't really miss his raven black hair from before Kerberos, or the white streak that stood out over his forehead, he's kind of relieved he can finally decide for himself how he wants to look like. 

It's a parallel of how he couldn't decide for himself what he wanted ever since he was diagnosed. He had to keep working out and be healthy to delay the damage and give himself more time to keep living. And then Kerberos happened, and he was made to fight for his life, to save himself and the people he cared about. He was forced to lose the limb where his sickness started. He was forced into having a new arm that was a weapon. He was forced to use it to protect who he loved. 

The front of his hair had turned white, and Shiro didn't care about that. He had more important things to care about, he just cared of what he could do to keep going. 

And then he died. 

And being in Black's conscious for so long cornered him to say goodbye entirely to having a body to care about again. 

And then Keith saved him. As he had always had. 

'As many times it takes,' he said that time a long time ago. 

And now there he was, closing his eyes to relax and let Allura work. 

He can't even remember how it had gone from one point to another. But he knows he was stunned when Lance and Allura came back from their honeymoon and Allura had these beautiful streaks of pinks and soft purples in her white hair. 

She confessed being charmed by dyed hair when she saw some people with different hair color than she was used to see in humans. And when Lance explained to her how it worked, she almost begged for him to buy dyes and color up their hair. 

In Allura it was breathtaking. Because Allura herself could cause that effect on you at any moment of time, really. In Lance, though, it was subtle and only shone bright under the sunlight. He had preferred blue hues, a bit of purple here and there, and, although it wasn't that visible because of his darker hair, it looked pretty good. 

And Shiro started to wonder if he should try it himself. 

Seeing Allura so proud and Lance a bit bashful, both so happy with the results, made Shiro want to feel that way, too; proud of himself, bashful at the attention, happy. 

In control. 

Shiro wanted to have some control over his body. 

"Shiro?" 

He blinked his eyes open, and found Allura's watching him with concern, maybe because his feelings were so easy to read in his face. 

"One last time," she insisted, threading her fingers through his hair and sighing, "Are you sure?" 

His gaze fell to his own reflection, the white of his hair glinting with the light of the bathroom, and he felt himself smile. 

"Yeah." 

Allura smiled at him again, soft and confident, and reached for one of the bowls where she had prepared the colors. 

"Okay, then," her secretive grin making him feel giddy in excitement, "Are you sure you don't want to choose the colors yourself?" 

He laughs, shaking his head. 

"I don't think I would've gone through this if I knew what color my hair is going to have, you know?" 

She hummed, stirring the mix on the bowl; one of the three bowls she had prepared without letting Shiro know which colors she thought for him. 

"Really?" she insisted, pouting, and her eyes found his in the mirror. 

He nodded. Because he may want to control his appearance for the first time, but he also needed a push to do so. 

"Really." 

Her smile turned bright, and Shiro felt the need to squint. 

"Alright!" 

She started to work, alternating from bowl to bowl, from color to color, and foiling up every lock of hair she finished with. Shiro stopped staring at the reflection a few minutes in when he couldn't figure out what colors Allura was using due to the differences of the color dye and the color result. Instead he closed his eyes, relaxing at the dexterity of Allura's hands on his hair and starting to hum a song he knew Allura liked, hearing her giggle and hum along with him. 

An hour and a half later, when Allura had finished dyeing his hair, cutting it and the time for the color to stick ended, they rushed into the bathroom again, leaving behind the half-empty cups of coffee they were having while waiting and talking about their day. 

Allura insisted in having the mirror covered, not wanting Shiro to see the result before she dried and combed his hair, and Shiro reluctantly accepted, grumbling whilst Allura washed his hair on the sink and giggled at him when he shook his head like a dog and made drops of water sprinkle. 

They calmed down a bit after Allura threw a towel at his head and roughly dried off his hair and face, making him squirm at her unwavering alien strength, both laughing a having a good time. 

But Shiro felt the looming moment of reveal hovering over him, making him nervous. 

He trusts Allura, he knows she wouldn't make something he doesn't like or dismiss his opinions. He knows she will take up her promise and fix it if he doesn't like it or feels comfortable with it. 

So he rights himself up in the chair in front of the covered mirror, and nods, hearing Allura sigh quietly before she pulls free the shirt she snagged from Lance's drawer. 

The shirt falls with a swish, and Shiro's breath falls from his lips, leaving him without air. 

He stares stunned at his reflection, and scrambles a bit to lean over the sink, the colors of his hair catching in the light. 

There's still white in some places, shining through stripes of pastel pink and blue that looked from the sky itself. His jaw falls and his flesh hand goes up to thread through the soft colored locks, finding a shy teal hidden between the other two, the three colors streaking gently around the white and not quite covering it up. It's more like working all together to a soft-misty rainbow. 

He feels his breath stutter in a gasp, and his other hand, massive and steel-cold goes to cover his mouth, the sting on his eyes wetting his lashes. 

"Oh, Shiro..." 

He hiccups, shaking his head, unable to look away from his reflection, from his new appearance. 

From his opportunity to be who he wants to be. 

And then he feels Allura's hand on his shoulder, comforting, knowing it's not because he didn't like it. 

"I love it," he sobs, finally blinking and quickly wiping the tears falling along his cheeks, "I love it, Allura. Thank you." 

She smiles, her eyes a bit watery, too. 

"I'm glad you liked it." 

He laughs, shaky and still crying, but he takes a deep breath and tries to calm down his beating heart, excited and so, _so_ happy. 

He looks at himself again, now with the stripes of soft color on his completely previous pale hair, and can't help the wide smile he shows to himself. 

'This is me,' he thinks proudly, 'This is finally me.' 

Shiro thanks her again under his breath, and she laughs wholeheartedly, giving him a tissue and leaving him in the bathroom to freshen up and wash his face. And Shiro is grateful at the privacy, his heart so big and full he feels like combusting. 

When he comes out, he finds that Lance and Keith have already arrived, and are eating the cookies Hunk had made a few days ago and that Shiro and Allura left with their coffees. 

Allura turns to him first, the cup on her color-stained hands steaming with freshly made tea, and she's smiling like a sun. 

Lance is the second one, looking over Keith’s head and choking with half-cookie he was chewing on while the other half his hand falling with a thunk on his coffee, making it splash over the counter and himself. 

Giggles and swears start from the other side of the table, and Keith completely turns to him, his eyes widening and his jaw slackening to open his lips in shock. He stands up quickly, stumbling a bit with the chair, and Shiro stops in front of him, feeling bashful. 

"Shiro..." Keith sighs, his eyes roaming from his hair to his face, and Shiro bites his lower lip. 

"Hey." 

Keith swallows and reaches, stopping his hand a few inches away from Shiro's face. His eyes are inquiring. 

"Can I...?" 

Shiro nods, leaning to him, and Keith finally touches, his fingers threading through his hair, through his colors. 

"You like it?" Shiro asks, trying to hide how eager he feels, how in control he wants to be. 

And Keith's eyes meet his with earnest. 

"I love it." 

Shiro feels happy. 


End file.
